


When in Rome: T'Pira Chronicles, Part III

by wildair7



Series: The T'Pira Chronicles [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildair7/pseuds/wildair7
Summary: When The Enterprise is notified its next mission regards the retrieval of four crewmembers, kidnapped by the Klingons, and transported to Ancient Rome, Kirk discovers one of these is his ex-wife, Vera Hopton.





	When in Rome: T'Pira Chronicles, Part III

When in Rome

 

 

     “Captain, Admiral Tennyson from Starfleet Command.”

     “Put him on, Uhura.” Kirk sat back into the comfort of his command chair, waiting for what he was certain would be bad news, considering the way things were already going that day.

     “Captain Kirk, we have new orders for you. _The Exeter_ lost four of its personnel to the Klingons yesterday.”

      The commanding officer took immediate notice at the mention of this particular starship, because his ex-wife Vera Hopton served aboard that vessel.

     “What can we do?”

     “Find them. Early this morning, _The Yorktown_ captured the Klingon vessel responsible for the kidnapping and one of them talked. The four men and women were taken through the time warp back to One-Eighty-Five A.D. and the capital of the Roman Empire.”

     “You want us to go back to that date to find those four people?”

     “Exactly. I know, I’m asking a lot, Jim, but you’re the best men for the job. If anyone can find them back there, you and your crew can.”

     More curious than ever, and more concerned, Kirk asked, “Just who are we looking for?” dreading the answer.

     “I’ll put their ‘grams on the screen for you. The first, here, is Lieutenant Alex Miller, chemist, the second is Ensign Alphera Martez, also science division. The third is Lieutenant Niles Barthel, and the last is…”

      Jim watched as the fourth image appeared and felt his heart sink, while he heard, “…Lieutenant Commander Vera Hopton.”

     After taking a deep breath, Jim replied, “We’ll take care of the matter, Admiral.”

     “I know you will. Tennyson out.”

     “Well,” Kirk muttered, “looks like Vera did it, again. Seems like she’s always in some kind of trouble.”

     “Actually,” interposed Spock, “my cousin is seldom in such straits as this.”

     “He’s right, Jim,” commented McCoy, who stood behind Kirk.

     “At any rate, set course for Earth, Warp Five, Mr. Sulu. ETA?”

     “Two days, six hours, fifteen minutes.”

     “Come on, you two,” said Kirk, motioning to Spock and McCoy. “I want to speak with you in private.”

     Upon leaving, the three went to the private room behind the Bridge, where Kirk sat and gestured the others do likewise.

     “Okay, anyone got any suggestions how we find them once we go back in time?”

     “Well,” McCoy voiced, “we know they’re in Rome, so should start there. Vera should be the easiest, especially with those golden eyes of hers.”

     “True. What do you think, Spock?”

     “I agree with the doctor. If we find her, she should be able to help us find the others.”

     “Right. But how do we find Vera?”

     Neither man answered.

     “Presuming the Klingons simply ‘let them go’ back there, without any guards, they’d virtually melt in to the crowd of an already anonymous population. Granted, Vera might be remembered by anyone who saw her, but what if no one we question has seen her? Which brings up another problem. Who goes?”

     Spock and McCoy looked at each other then Bones spoke. “Definitely you and Spock. You

know Vera the best.”

     “But Spock would stick out like a sore thumb. He’d have to stay hidden while I searched, and I can’t search alone. I want you to go with me, Bones.”

     “Me, instead of Spock?”

     “No, in addition to Spock. We’ll need him to rationally plan our search and take care of any of those we do find, until we can get back to the ship. Right now, we’d better take advantage of what time remains to brush up on our Latin. We’ll need it down there.”

 

    James Kirk, Dr. Leonard McCoy, and Spock stood in the Transporter Room of _The Enterprise_ making sure Special Services had given them the correct amount of Roman currency for the mission. Each was dressed in the long toga of a freeman, except for Kirk, who wore a short tunic and high laced sandals more befitting a soldier. Spock’s conspicuous ears covered by a laurel wreath, his slanted eyebrows had been cosmetically shaved and reshaped to resemble more Human form.

     “All right, now,” said Kirk. “We can’t use our real names, so will have to think of other ones.”

     “How about Lucoris for me,” McCoy said, beaming.

     Spock raised an eyebrow in comment. “What made you pick that one?”

     “Never mind. What name are you going by?”

     “I thought Cassias would be fitting.”

     “Cassias! Do you know who Cassias was, Spock?”

     “Quite.”

    “All right, all right, you two, let’s cut the flack. I’ll use the name Flavius. Ready?      They beamed down to a preselected spot on the outskirts of Rome, heavily vegetated with trees, and some distance from the main road to town. The road, itself, was quite congested with freemen and slaves, alike, some riding in litters or upon strong horses, others walking, pushing or pulling their way toward the city, which already swelled with humanity. As the three journeyed along the road, blending into the mass migration, Kirk’s hopes fell even further after seeing the heavily trafficked highway.

     Once they reached the gates of Rome, they slipped into a narrow side street near the market to find a tavern or somewhere else to use as a base of operations, explaining to the tavern owner they lived far away and had come to Rome to buy slaves and gifts for their families. Therefore, being strangers in town, they needed a room, one preferably with a private entrance.

     After being scrutinized, the man nodded and led them to a small house, separate from the tavern, explaining he and his wife had once lived there, but he no longer needed it since her death.

     While Kirk and McCoy ventured to the market, which seemed the most likely place to find those they sought, Spock remained at the house. With no papers proving their status as freemen, the crewmembers of the _Exeter_ could be sold as slaves. If they managed to escape that fate, those missing would be hungry and attempt to steal food from the vast quantities in the marketplace. The Klingons had not provided their captives with either food or money.

    

     After several hours, McCoy and Kirk came to a huge crowd gathered around a raised, wooden platform, on which stood a man of obvious, Slavic blood, his dark hair shiny with grease as were

his skin and clothing. Before him in a more forward position, a small woman of Nordic features,

head bowed in shame as she’d been stripped and exposed nakedly to the onlooking group of

potential buyers, mostly men, but all dressed in rich clothing or the red stripe of Senatorial

identification along the side of their otherwise full-length white togas.

     “I have fifteen-hundred denarii!” shouted a corpulent Caucasian man with balding pate, “who will give me two thousand, lords? Surely, this woman is worth at least that!”

     A mumbling ensued, but no higher bids were made, and the woman was pushed off to her new owner, a hefty matron of one of the temples, or so Kirk guess by her heavily painted features.

     The next slave on the block brought Kirk’s attention back to the auction, for now a tall, scantily dressed woman of palest skin but darkest hair, was brought forward, a look of utter contempt and defiance on her beautiful face.

     “Bones,” Kirk whispered, “it’s her. It’s got to be her.”

     “Vera?”

     “Yeah. Look. If only I could see her eyes, I could be sure.”

     “It looks enough like her, all right. Let’s get closer.”

     They pushed through the tight throng of onlookers to the front of the platform. Already, the slaver was extolling this woman’s virtues, telling of her unusual strength, her fine health, her quick wit. However, the female in question spit in his face in appreciation. At that, he called two burly men to hold her, but she soon broke loose.

     “I will give you two-thousand denarii for her,” a masculine voice shouted from the crowd. “I like her spirit.”

     Kirk’s head turned anxiously toward the voice.

     “I give three-thousand,” said another.

     McCoy grabbed his companion’s arm. “Jim, can you tell if it’s here? Isn’t there some mole or birthmark?”

     “Yes, a…triangular mole on her left shoulder, but I can’t tell from here.”

     “Come, my fine lords,” bellowed the slaver, “this piece is worth far more. She will serve all day and night without sleep, will this one. Do you require more for your money? Then feast your eyes on this!” With those words, he ripped off the short white slave tunic she wore, exposing her to all eyes.

     Unlike most women, this one didn’t attempt to cover her nakedness but, instead, thrust her full breasts out proudly and stood at her full height, shoulders back.

     “Four-thousand!” Kirk said, then turned to McCoy. “How much do you have? I’m almost sure it’s her.”

     “About three-thousand.”

     The bid was raised again, and Kirk overbid, buying the woman before them for a total of six-thousand denarii. The slaver pushed her toward Kirk, at the same time holding out his open palm for the promised price. The money exchanged, Kirk took her by the arm, her body still naked but holding her torn tunic in her hand,

     In reaction, she dangled the flimsy, useless garment in his face. “You shall have to buy me something else to wear.”

     How could Kirk know a slave would never make such a blatant demanding request, so answered, “Yes, I see that. Can you put that back on, hold it with your hands or something, until we do?”

     “If you promise to buy me a blue one, I will.”

     “Who is master here?”

     “You, lord,” she replied, looking up at him for the first time, also a sign of disrespect for a

slave.

     Kirk looked at her calmly for the first time. “Your eyes are brown.”

     “Of course. Did you expect else?”

     “In a way, yes. But it is too late now.”

 

     Back at the house, they left the woman with Spock and departed again, while the Vulcan examined the woman critically who, when they left, sat before him.

     “What is your name?” he asked after several minutes.

     “I am called Hera,” she said, proudly.

     “That shows little, very little imagination.”

     “What concern is it of yours what name my parents chose. I was named after an immortal. Can you say as much?”

     “No.”

     “Where are you and the others from? You all speak strangely.”

     “Far away.”

     “I see.”

     They stared at each other a moment, then Spock spoke again. “I think you are not whom you purport to be.”

     “I am who I am.”

     “No, you are not. You are T’Pira.”

     Abruptly rising from the chair, she raised her voice. “T’Pira? No, my name is Hera!”

    “And I say, it is not.”

     The woman’s eyes narrowed with spite. “Are you calling me a liar?”

     “Stop acting, T’Pira. Your ways may have fooled them but does not fool me. Must I use a mind probe to prove my point?”

     Just as suddenly as she’d risen, ready to fight, the woman wilted, becoming pale. “All right. You win.” She turned to face him. “You know I cannot endure a mind probe, especially yours, so when all else fails, you naturally threaten me with that. Will you forgive me?”

      Hands placed on either side of her face, he said, “As always, I forgive you. But you must help us find the others.”

     “I have no idea where to look, as they were all sold yesterday.”

     “Do you believe it impossible to find them?”

     “Not entirely.”

     “Why did you let Jim and Doctor McCoy believe you other than you are?”

     “All I could think of on that auction block was staying alive. Then, when I heard Jim’s voice bidding on me, I became confused. I knew he thought he recognized me, but when he bought me and could see my eyes were deep brown instead of gold, he could never believe what he faced. So, rather than revealing my identity in that crowd, I played along.”

     “But, when he returns, you will tell him?”

     “Yes.” She looked at Spock as he came to her side. “I wish you would take off that ridiculous wreath. Those have not been worn since the days of the Caesars.”

     The laurel wreath removed, Spock held it in his hands regarding it. “Then why did they give it to me?”

     “Spock,” she asked, touching his arm, “are you well? Surely, you know enough about Earth history to know that.”

     “I regret my knowledge of the Early Republic is limited.”

     “I see. Well, we can use a hooded cloak if you need to go outside.” She took the wreath from his hands and slowly dismantled it, throwing the leaves out the curtained window into courtyard where the breeze scattered them about. “Have you begun to feel differently since coming here?”

     “Should I?”

     The wreath dismantled, she turned about, facing him, a smile on her face. “Oh, Spock, do you truly not realize? This Rome,” she said, gesturing around her, “is two thousand years from our time.”

     “Two thousand years before our time, Vulcans were…”

     “Yes, they certainly were. And the longer you remain, the more you will become like them. I have been here nearly four days and you can surely see the change in me.”

     “You see quite happy, whereas before you seemed downcast. Have your other emotions surfaced as well?”

      At a distinct creaking sound, she turned her head toward the door. “Jim and Doctor McCoy are returning.”  So saying, she stepped away, as the two other men entered, speaking Latin.

     “There were no more of the slaves we wanted, Cassius. Perhaps tomorrow.”

     Vera smiled at him. “You can drop the Latin, Jim. You bought the right slave.”

     “Vera?” Kirk rushed toward her and gripped her arms. “Is it really you?”

     “How many Romans speak English?”

     “It’s her!” Bones said, laughing.

     “I-I can’t believe it. Before, I was so sure it was you, then the eyes… But I can see now they’re lighter than before.”

     “Yes, the eye coloration was brought about by a drug the Klingons gave me. The others might be similarly altered to avoid recognition.”

     “I don’t think so,” he answered. “We talked to the slaver who sold you, and he auctioned off two men answering Miller and Barthel’s descriptions to a gladiator trainer.”

     “By now, then, they could be dead,” voiced Spock.

     Kirk turned from Vera to the Vulcan. “I know.”

     “Still nothing on Alphera?” asked Vera.

     Kirk resumed his attention on her, shaking his head. “No, nothing. Do you have any ideas?”

     “She was bought by a representative of the Bacchian Temple and, if the subjects of Bacchus are as dangerous now as a hundred years before, has a very uncertain but short future.”

     “Everything in that Greek play was true, then?” asked Bones.

     She nodded slowly. “The drunken orgies, the maimings, and blood sacrifices may still exist. Mostly the brides of Bacchus are used as prostitutes.” She looked at Kirk. “Unless they were chosen for the supreme sacrifice…death on the altar.”

      “God, Vera,” remarked McCoy, “you could have been bought by the temple.”

     “Not only could, but would have, if you and Jim hasn’t come and started bidding for me. The other man was from Bacchus.” She gazed deeply into Kirk’s concerned but relieved eyes, sending him a mental message.

     He spoke over his shoulder to Spock and McCoy. “Spock, change clothes with me. My cloak hood will hide your ears. I want you to go to the tavern and get us some food.” He looked back at Vera. “I’ll be right back.”

     She nodded, and he left the room with Spock, leaving her alone with McCoy.

     “Sure you’re all right?” Bones asked.

     “I’m fine, Leonard.”

     When she plopped down on the couch along the wall, he sat down beside her. “Guess you’ll be returning to the _Exeter_ first chance.”

     His observation answered by a nod, he replied, “I wish you could get transferred back to _The Enterprise._ I could use someone like you in research.”

     “You know that’s impossible.”

     “Yeah, I know. Seems you’ve had this problem ever since I first knew you.”

     “And you’ve known me quite a long time.”

     “Yep, ever since your first year at the Academy.” He put a fatherly arm about her shoulder, and she leaned against him. “You can always come to me, Vera. Remember that. I’ll protect you from these over romantic officers.”

     At those words, she laughed and gave him a hug. “If I ever have another child. I’m naming him after you.”

     “What if it’s a girl? No, please don’t. I can’t imagine any girl going around with a moniker like Leonard.”

      “Leonara would be a feminine version.”

     Before McCoy could respond, Spock and Kirk came back, Spock now wearing the hood of the cloak far forward but immediately pushed it back once the door closed.

     “Ready, Doctor?”

     McCoy patted Vera on the shoulder and rose. “Yes. Jim, you’ll take care of our girl, here, won’t you?”

     “You can be sure of it.”

    “Okay, Spock, let’s go.”

     With them gone, Jim joined Vera. “Okay, what did you want to talk to me about that they couldn’t hear?”

     She turned to face him, eyes overly moist. “Jim, you’ve got to send me back to _The Enterprise_ , immediately.”

     “Hey, you’re almost crying. What’s the matter?”

     “I can’t remain where Spock is. You must beam me up right away.”

     “Vera, hold on now. You’ve got some explaining to do. I thought you’d want to see Spock before you went back to _The Exter.”_

“No! I cannot, must not be near him.”

     “Why not?” He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Is it the Council, again? You’ve got eight years until their decision. They still might choose Spock as your consort.”

     “No, Jim. They won’t. I will never be Spock’s wife, because I can’t.”

     “I think you’d better explain in more detail.”

     “The Council gave me those extra years to mature, and I have. I realize now why they refused to consider Spock. They knew he and I could never have a harmonious marriage.”

     “But why? The two of you are much alike, being half Vulcan.”

     “Which is why I was given to Sarek and Amanda, although they raised me with less restrictions than they did Spock. I’m sure T’Pau thought my affection for him would deepen by being near him.”

     “And it did to the point you once loved him.”

     “I did, but now I wonder what the catalyst of that affection was? Could it have been indebtedness, gratitude? Habit?”

     “So, in a sense, you’ve decided to get out of Spock’s life.”

     She nodded and elaborated. “All we do in each other’s presence is argue and bring up old

issues of discord. I tried putting him out of my life at the Academy and before ever coming to _The Enterprise_ and thereafter. But time and again, he keeps entering my life and causing more upheaval. I know, now, my future lies with another, someone I’ve kept secret for twelve years, someone I can see a future with, and may Vulcan’s High Council and Matriarch be damned!”

     Turning around, she walked away before facing her ex-husband, again. “Therefore,” she said, “once I’m aboard, I’ll put myself in quarantine until we reach the Starbase where I’ll await _The Exter_. Spock is a physical scientist, not really a biologist, or not enough to understand medicine. He’ll accept the quarantine as logical procedure, and Leonard will back me up.”

     “You’ve never been sick a day in your life, but I suppose this time in history is rife with all sorts of viruses and bacterial infections.” Jim moved his head up and down. “You’re right. To Spock, your quarantine will be… God, I hate to use that word, but logical.”

     “So, will you signal the ship? They’ll be back soon.”

     “All right.” Kirk flipped open his communicator and hailed the starship. “Scotty, Commander Hopton is with me about a meter to my right. Beam her up in thirty seconds.”

     “Will do,” came the Scotsman’s voice in return. “Find the others, yet?”

     “No, still looking. Kirk out.”

      He replaced the device and regarded Vera. “Satisfied?”

      “Yes. Thank you, Jim. I shall never forget this.”

      “Just do me a favor and don’t cry anymore. Can’t stand to see a Vulcan cry.”

      Closing the distance between them, Vera slipped her arms around his neck, and he bent his head to hers, holding her closer. When they parted, she gazed into his eyes, her own growing moist.

     “In my own way, I do still love you, Jim.” Then she stepped away and seconds later, before Kirk could respond, disappeared in the transporter effect.

     Minutes later, Spock and McCoy returned, Spock’s eyes sweeping the room. He ran into the adjoining rooms, one after the other, and returned finally to Kirk.

     “Where is she?”

     “Aboard the _Enterprise_.”

     Spock grabbed the neck of Kirk’s toga. “You let her go? Without consulting me?”

     At once, McCoy pulled the Vulcan off the Captain. “Spock, come on! Get a hold of yourself! This isn’t like you.”

     Spock shook his head, a look of puzzlement on his usually calm face. “Captain, I do not know what to say. I am deeply regretful of my actions.”

     Straightening the drape of his toga, Kirk muttered, “No harm done. Vera started feeling sick, that’s all, and didn’t intend to upset you nor Bones, I’m sure.”

     “Of course,” said Spock, “it was foolish of me to over-react. I apologize.”

     “Now that’s taken care of, all three of us can search for the others. Let’s start with the gladiator training arena near the Coliseum.”

 

     An hour later, they found the trainer who bought both Miller and Barthel.

     “Lost the light-haired one in this morning’s session. Couldn’t take the heat, I guess. Just fell over dead.”

     A grimace crossed McCoy’s features.

     “What about the other?” asked Kirk.

     “He’s out there now. Come on, I’ll show you. How much did you say you’d pay?”

     “Four thousand denarii.”

     When they arrived at the arena, a stretcher was being carried out, bearing a badly wounded trainee. His pointed sideburns revealed him as Lt. Miller of _The Exter_ , and Kirk stopped the stretcher-bearers.

     “This is the man we were looking for.”

     “Seems pretty near finished to me,” remarked the trainer. “You still want him, he’s yours.”

     “We find seriously wounded trainees make better gladiators when recovered,” said Spock, calmly.”

     “Really,” said the other man, rubbing his stubble-covered chin. “I must try that. Well, he’s yours, then. Doubt my physician can fix that serious a wound. But the price is the same.”

     Kirk opened a leather pouch and removed a bag of gold coins, hefting it then tossing it to the trainer’s open palm. “As agreed. We’ll take the stretcher.”

    With Spock taking one end and McCoy the other, they carried it rapidly away, Kirk at their side, to the closest alley then stopped, where Kirk removed his concealed communicator.

     “Scotty. Beam up Miller and Doctor McCoy. Spock and I will stay and continue searching for Ensign Martez. Kirk out.”

     No sooner had he spoken, than Miller and Bones dematerialized.

 

     Another hour passed, and the two men found themselves at a small, elaborately decorated temple, surrounded by heavily wooded gardens—the Temple of Bacchus. By now, the skies had grown dark and the men of Rome steadily made their way into the fragrant pathways lined with roses and other blooming plants, to enjoy the wine, food, and not to mention the main attraction: the brides of Bacchus.

     Kirk pointed to the garden entrance. “If she’s here, that’s where we’ll find her.”

     Slowly walking along the main path, they noticed several beautiful women, all scantily dressed, some occupied with men, some not.

     “If history serves me correctly,” Spock supplied, “I believe the men are allowed the selection of the women from anywhere in the garden.”

     “And if she’s not here,” asked Kirk, “what then?”.

     “Then, we shall ask one of the other women if they know her. However, if not in the garden, she is most likely inside the temple.”

     “And if she’s in the temple?”

     “Which means she could be sacrificed at midnight.”

     They made a complete tour of the garden without result then stopped one of the unoccupied young women. Her scant tunic made of sheer green fabric, her blond hair was decorated with purple grapes and dark green leaves: the symbols of Bacchus.

     “We are looking for a woman brought yesterday, about your height, dark hair, blue eyes, roughly…” Kirk paused. The ensign was near thirty but appeared much less. “…eighteen years of age,” he finished.

     “I know the one you mean. That lucky girl was chosen by Bacchus this afternoon. Tonight, she will become as immortal as the god himself and one of his privileged brides.”

     “Where can we find her?”

     “I should not tell you,” said the woman, looking downward then gazing at the two men seductively beneath lowered lashes, “but she seems so lonely. Perhaps you can cheer her up,

make her realize the honor she will receive. She should be in the room behind the altar. Alone,

in her time of preparation.”

    After thanking the girl, the two men rushed toward the temple, pushing through the drunken

bodies of the early revelers and into the side entrance of the temple. It was Spock who found Lt. Martez and motioned to Kirk.

    Both beside the pale faced woman, she didn’t recognize either and thought they’d come to take her to the sacrificial altar. But Kirk spoke to her in English, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

    Again, Kirk took out his communicator. “Scotty. Three to beam up. Mission accomplished.”   

    “Aye, aye. Right away.”

    Three human forms disappeared from the temple room

 

     Once back through the rigors of breaking the time warp, Spock sought out Vera’s whereabouts, only to learn of her quarantine in Sick Bay, and within seconds had entered McCoy’s office, insisting upon answers in a most unVulcan mood.

     “Why is she quarantined?” he demanded. “The others are not.”

     “Spock, didn’t Jim tell you she became ill down there. Can’t you see what she has might be contagious?”

     ‘Well, what does she have?”

     “We don’t know yet.”

     The Vulcan’s arms stiffened, and his hands clenched into fists, as he fought for control. Then, in green-faced anger, he went to the door to depart, saying, “Let me know when you do, Doctor.”

    

    With Spock gone, McCoy left and walked across the corridor, unlocked a door and entered, locking it behind him. At a table nearby, sat a dark-haired woman bent over a microscope, studying a slide, who turned and looked up when he came to stand beside her.

    “He’s getting suspicious, Vera.”

    “You didn’t tell him where I was, did you?”

    “No. I promised I wouldn’t. Besides, I do want you under observation for a while.”

    “How’s Lieutenant Miller?”

    “Recovery satisfactory.” Bones regarded the one he thought of more like a daughter than anything else. “You going to speak to him before we reach Starbase Ten?”

    “No.”

    “Suit yourself, but I sure hate having him mad at me.”

    “He’s not angry with you…only me.”

    “I’m still getting the brunt of it.”

    Vera ignored this last comment and said, “Tell Jim I’d like to see him in the next day or so.”

     “Which means I’ll have to sneak him past Spock. That damn Vulcan hovers around Sick Bay like a vulture, waiting to see you, whenever he can escape Christine Chapel following him around like a lost puppy dog with googly eyes.”

      Bone knew Vera’s mood was most unlike her when she didn’t react to his comment and simply said, “Goodbye, Leonard.”

     “Trying to get rid of me?”

     “If you want me to complete this project for you, before I leave, I must have privacy…and quiet.”

     “Dadgum, logical female! All right. I’ll go. See you tonight…or is our dinner still on?”

     “I can afford that much time, I guess. See you later.” Vera sat up straight and faced him. “By the way, Leonard, I require an assistant for about four hours. If Ensign Brezier is still aboard, will you allow her to assist me?”

     “Sure,” said McCoy, who turned and closed the door behind him with a smile, just as Spock

walked by.

     “May I inquire as to why you were in that particular room, Doctor?”

     “Just checking on supplies, Spock.”

     “I think not, Doctor. I have checked with Nurse Chapel, and she informs me Commander Hopton is not in Sick Bay, and since she is also not in any of the vacant staterooms or crewmen’s quarters, I can only suspect you have hidden her somewhere.”

     “Chapel doesn’t know everything, Spock. She was mistaken. Vera is isolated in Sick Bay.”

     “I tend to believe her rather than you, Doctor. May I have the demagnetizer to this supply room.”

     “What for?”

     “No one leaves after conducting an inventory with a smile on their face.”

      “Well, I do.”

     “The demagnetizer.”

     “Okay, Spock. Here it is. Go ahead, go in there. You’ll hurt her just as you did when you left her alone on Earth carrying your child. I know she’ll never admit it, but you hurt her badly, back then. So, go ahead and hurt her, again. By your own admission, you have no emotions, so what do you care if she’s purposefully isolated herself from you and everyone else? With good reason, I might add. And, if not for you treating her like dirt when she was here before, Vera wouldn’t have been captured. For that matter, it’s no wonder she hates being around you after the way you treated her at the Academy.”

     “She understood what she did and accepted her duty. The fault was not mine.”

     “Accepted because she’d been brain-washed it was her duty as a Vulcan woman. Maybe she did accept what happened in the sense of compliance, but did you even show her the slightest affection those weeks? Do you know she nearly flunked all her courses from exhaustion and depression?”

     “I made a point of having her attend her classes and cannot imagine why she would be depressed.”

     “Vera was only eighteen, Spock, and what time did you give her to study, huh? Or did you force yourself on her the minute she stepped through the door of her living unit?”

     “That, Doctor, is none of your business!”

     “Not my business? You didn’t see the bruises on her arms, thighs and waist and the torn flesh.  I counseled her for months afterwards, to see her through the damage you did to her physically and mentally. Why, if not for Jim—”

     “How did they meet, anyway?” asked Spock, interrupting McCoy.

     “She and he were in the same senior level astrophysics class, and he noticed her. Hell, all the male cadets did, as if she had anything to do with them. Well, he saw her one day after class at the nearby coffee shop and asked if he could sit with her. She agreed, and they began to talk, thus discovering a deep friendship. In fact, he was about the only one at the Academy she felt she could trust. So, they met and spoke more, until he noted her depressed state and questioned her about it, whereon she spilled out the whole thing.”

     “Which was when she revealed her pregnancy?”

     “And he did what any gentleman would do. Of course, you wouldn’t understand that, would you? Not once did you ever reach out to ask how she was doing, the way any other close relative would do. Such was your Vulcan compassion, one you should have at least inherited from your mother, but obviously did not.”

     “I considered it better to forget the entire incident.”

     “Incident! Incident? It was far more than that, and you know it! If you cared a smidgen for her as a person, much less a cousin, you would have at least inquired as to her health or the progress of her studies. But no, you couldn’t even manage that!”

     “I did, I do care for her, the truth is…” Spock’s words stopped as suddenly as this argument had begun, and brow wrinkled, his face seemed years older, as he stared at the round, coin-sized demagnetizer in his hand then looked at the door.

     Handing back the devise, he spoke, his voice unsteady and low. “I never meant to intentionally cause her pain and will not do so now. I shall see her only if she, herself, desires.” He turned and left, walking slowly down the corridor toward the turbo lift.

 

     The same demagnetizer opened the door of the supply room a few minutes later, and a very human appearing, young blond woman of human appearance, wearing a blue ensign’s uniform entered quietly.

     “Doctor, you sent for me?”

     Vera turned and rubbed her eyes then smiled her slight smile. “Yes. Do you still answer the signal from my ring?”

     The young woman clasped her hands behind her back. “Indeed, so.”

     “And has the Commander been notified I am aboard _the Enterprise_?”

     “Affirmative, my lady. When you disappeared, the agent on the _Exeter_ notified him immediately, and when you were found, I notified him of that fact.”

      “Ensign Brezier, does…does he ever speak of me in the presence of you or others?”

      The ensign came closer and spoke lowly. “I haven’t personally seen him in many years, my lady, but through other agents and the general information which passes between our organization, I hear things from those in close proximity. While he speaks little of you, except with those who know, he covets what belongings you left behind.”

     “Is he still on the Frontier?”

     “Not exactly.”

     A look of confusion crossed Vera’s features. “What do you mean?”

     “I think it best you learn later. All I can say, is matters within the Space Service are in

turmoil.”

     “Which means he’s part of this turmoil or closely involved.”

     Answered only by silence, Vera ventured, “Have you any messages for me?”

     “No, my lady,” the ensign replied with bowed head. “Do you have one for him?”

     “Tell him… No, it is unimportant.”

     “Are you certain, my lady?”

     “No, I am no longer certain of anything. Perhaps you should pass on that, in light of our agreement, I would like to see him…, again, if he agrees. I will be at Starbase Ten for twenty days while awaiting the arrival of _The Exter._ ”

     “I’ll relay your message, my lady, but cannot guarantee he’ll answer.”

     Now turned back to her microscope, Vera acknowledged his words with, “I expect none, but require your assistance, because the analyses over there,” she said, indicating a worktable to her left, “need further confirmation.”

     “Understood,” she said, and took a seat at the specified station.

 

 

     Days later, with _The Enterprise_ orbiting Starbase 10, Vera ran into the same ensign walking

down the corridor to the Transporter Room, where she would depart for Starbase 10 in less than an hour. When he approached her, wearing a faint smile, she slowed her pace.

     Coming shoulder to shoulder, she whispered, “He will gladly come,” then both quickened their steps, each in the direction of their destinations.

     _He still loves me_ , Vera thought to herself, as she made her way to the Transporter Room. _His anger has abated. Oh, my love, my decision will not disappoint you, I swear!_

When she arrived, Lt. Miller and Ens. Martez stood on the platform, and Vera found herself facing Spock for the first time since their last argument.

     “I’m glad you came, Spock,” she said.

     “You asked, so I came. It was only logical.”

     Stifling a reaction to “that word,” she looked down momentarily, swallowed, then raised her head and met his dark eyes.

     “I doubt we shall meet again, cousin.”

     Hands held behind his back, he replied, “Quite possible. I wish you well, nonetheless, and hope you have recovered from your illness.”

     “Doctor McCoy says I may never be recovered completely. There is always a chance of relapse, so must guard myself against future infection.”

     “I see.”

     Said with the calmest of voices, Vera wasn’t sure what Spock meant.

     “You needn’t stay until I leave,” she said. “I realize you have other duties to perform.”

     “I do, indeed, so will leave. Goodbye, T’Pira. Live long and prosper.”

     “Farewell, Spock. Peace and long life.”

     When Spock left the room, Kirk came to Vera’s side. “Did you tell him?”

     “No. Why bother. One day he’ll know.”

     Kirk nodded, in understanding. “And, when will _I_ see you again?”

     “Soon, I hope. I value the few friends I have dearly.”

     “Well, time to go. Ready?”

     “Yes.”

     With Jim’s strong hand supporting her elbow, he guided her to join her fellow crewmembers, while a blond science ensign watched from the doorway.

     Kirk smiled and nodded, saying, “Mr. Kyle, energize.”

     The three figures burst into golden particles and gradually vanished. When the air cleared of

all evidence of the three people, Kirk leaned over the console and pressed the intercom button to the Bridge.

     “Set course for Denara, Mr. Spock. Warp Four.”

     “Aye, sir. Denara, Warp Four.”

 

     Days later, Lt. Miller at the Starbase Infirmary and Ensign Martez never leaving his side, Vera awaited Tlasus’ arrival at her door, occupying her mind and time with the composition and recording of a long overdue letter to her foster parents. Unfortunately, Starfleet Regulation prohibited disclosure of her various missions, despite Sarek’s lofty intelligence clearance, as an Ambassador. Neither could she divulge her encounter with Spock and the emotional conflicts she continued to struggle with, even now.

     “Damn those Spraiters and their bodily control of my actions” _,_ she cursed, “actions I’ve never managed to erase completely from my memories, even after the passage of two years.”

     One thing was certain, though: her love for Tlasus and her commitment to him and him,

alone, in the future. In this frame of mind, she sat down at her desk, pressed the “record” icon on her tablet and began, maintaining what she hoped would appear as a calm and relaxed countenance belying her happiness at a reunion with Tlasus.

 

     _Dearest Mother and Father,_

_Please forgive your errant daughter for not reaching out sooner. It seems what leisure time I have this last year has been filled with rest and the blanking of my mind to all other tasks while on duty. If not for these, I would be more considerate of your need to hear my voice and see my face._

_Yes, I have lost some weight, an effect of too much work, not enough sleep, and being so involved in whatever else I do, I forget to eat. Because I am well aware of this habit, I have set an alarm on my personal chronometer to alert me when to eat. Alas, sometimes I ignore it. Please do not worry, as I am otherwise in good health._

_At present I await the_ Exeter, _along with two other fellow science crewmembers, after a brief mission on the_ Enterprise _. Yes, I saw Spock momentarily, since our duties took us in different directions._

     _Oh,_ she wondered, _what a lie I tell. Do they detect it in my face?_ then continued:

 

     _He is also well, in other words, his usual self._

_Not much else to relate. Jim Kirk sends his regards, as does Doctor McCoy, who remains my dearest friend._

_Nothing more from T’Pau or the High Council, which you doubtless know._

_All my love,_

_Vera_

     No sooner had she pressed the “Send” icon on her tablet than a light knocking sounded at her door, and she rose to answer. On opening it, she discovered a man dressed in the red-piped black uniform of a hotel employee, holding a large, rectangular box, dressed in a bright red ribbon.

     “This was delivered a few minutes ago.” He nodded at the small white envelope tucked neatly beneath the ribbon. “The note, there, will probably explain.”

     She thanked him, and took the box, then carried it to her bed, where she removed the envelope and read its contents in a familiar hand, brightening her face and causing her heart to flutter at the words therein.

 

    _My beloved, put this on immediately and enhance your beauty with whatever makeup you deem necessary, then pin up those long dark tresses of your hair, so I may later, at my leisure, take them down. I shall arrive in 30 minutes to take you somewhere special._

It was signed, simply, “T.”

     On removing the lid of the box, Vera beheld a high-necked gown of metallic royal blue, and on pulling it out and carrying it to the full-length mirror in the bathroom, held it up, letting its glittering length fall to her feet. The bodice and long sleeves would fit snuggly, but the skirt itself fell in a smooth, gentle cascade down the length of her legs, while the bathroom lights caused the fabric’s silver threads to glisten over every inch. Her hair pushed up in back into a simulation of

her beloved’s request, she regarded the effect in the mirror and smiled, then went and laid the

dress alongside the box on her bed. There, beneath the folds of paper, she found a matching pair of slippers.

     More than pleased, Vera discarded the velvet-like crimson caftan she wore and prepared herself with great anticipation. Hair styled in an upsweep of cascading ringlets and curls piled atop her head, and eyelids shaded a darker blue than the dress, Vera added blush to her cheekbones and lined her eyes with a kohl-like substance before enhancing the length of her already long lashes with a product guaranteed to be tear-proof. She hoped the guarantee was true, because tears already began forming in her eyes. A dab of rosy red darkening her lips, she added dangling earrings of sparkly marcasite from the counter before her. While regarding the final effect in the mirror, she realized Tlasus had never seen her made up this way, much less in such elaborate makeup or garments. Ready at last, she sat down to wait, hands folded in her lap, but fingers fidgeting with the glistening fabric of her long skirt while she waited. She didn’t wait long.

 

     With another soft rapping sounded on her door, Vera stood up and rushed to the open it, pressing her palm on the plaque set into the adjacent wall. When the entrance to the room whooshed aside, there he stood, all six-feet-four-inches of masculine perfection, his light blond, shaggy hair hiding his pointed ears and sweeping eyebrows. His broad shoulders were clothed in indigo blue and a high-stand-up collar surrounded his thick neck. But it was the smoky green of his eyes that enraptured her as they did each time they met, ones now widened in what? Astonishment?

     He stared at her, as if drinking in her form, his tongue darting to moisten dry, kissable lips as he took her in, obviously speechless.

     “Vera,” he managed at last.

     “My love,” she answered, and then they were in each other’s arms, the gentle strength of his enveloping her and his familiar scent filling her nostrils. Minutes passed like that, holding onto the moment, not wanting it to end, until they parted a hair’s breadth and gazed into the eyes of the one opposite.

     “I never thought you could be more beautiful, but it seems every time I see you, you’ve grown more so, and now…” He shook his head, as though unable to find the words. “Now, you are more beautiful than I imagined.”

      Vera giggled at his use of an old Earth expression. “I find you the same, but if you don’t kiss me soon, I shall die of wanting.”

     No sooner had she spoken than his mouth descended on her with tenderness but for too short a time.

     “Come,” he said, “we have reservations.”

     “Reservations,” she answered, as he placed his hand about her waist and drew her out into the hotel hallway and to the turbo lift taking them to the arcade below.

     “Yes, you’ll see, and afterwards, we have an appointment elsewhere.”

     “I will go with you wherever you lead me,” said Vera, taking his arm and gazing up into his smiling eyes.

  

      When they stood in front of one of the fanciest restaurants on the Base, Vera looked up at him questioningly. The sign above the entryway, proclaimed in ten different languages, “Earthen Delights.”

     Escorted to a table against the corner of a far wall, Tlasus pulled out her chair against one

wall, refusing the offer of the maître ‘de to do so, and sat himself against the back wall, thus ensuring an unobstructed view of the entrance and safety against any untoward attack on the business. Nearby, to his left, stood an exit, in case of the need of rapid departure. These instincts inbred and taught from years of evading surprise, he knew Vera had been likewise trained for her own protection.

     The meal he’d previously ordered, arrived: fresh, farm-grown lobster and a baked sweet potato with caramel sauce and hydroponic broccoli. While the waiter poured a glass of red wine

for each, one he’d sipped and approved of, Tlasus took Vera’s pale hand on the linen

tablecloth and gave it a squeeze.

     “This only begins my plans for tonight.”

     “I am delighted…with everything. But, how did you know what size dress I wore?”

     “Well,” he said, releasing her hand reluctantly, “I said I could encompass your waist easily with both hands,” and demonstrated. “When asked for more details, I held my hands apart, thusly,” he added, holding them about a foot apart, “to indicate the width of your hips, and when she asked your bust size, I held my hands out, palm upwards,” he said with them posed that way, “and fingers curled slightly upward.”

     “Whatever the woman understood, this fits me perfectly. I could not have asked for better, even if tailored to my form.”

     “If you would, could we speak only English from now on? But eat your food before it gets cold, we have an appointment elsewhere in an hour-and-a-half.”

     “Oh,” she said, cracking a lobster claw with the plier-like instrument provided, “you tweak my curiosity more.”

     Imitating her actions, he attacked his own lobster, laughing, along with her, at the skill needed to get at all the meat within the hard shell.

     Halfway through the meal, she commented, “You realize this is the first time we’ve eaten together in—”

     “Twelve years, four months and twenty-three days,” he finished.

     “With less than an hour of time spent together, all toll.”

     “Have you forgotten that first night on _The Enterprise_?”

     “I thought it a dream.”

     “Not a dream but a reality we both needed.”

     In response, she lowered her head, bashfully, and nodded before asking, “And now?”

     “Now, we have two weeks of uninterrupted happiness.”

     “Two weeks? How could you manage?”

     He remained silent when the waiter came and cleared away their empty plates. Once more alone and ignored by the other patrons except those who stared at them in envy, he again took her hand and said, “I’m not with the Service anymore. Haven’t been for six months.”

     Vera’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How? why?”

     “I was booted out, I believe is the Earth expression, for insubordination, failure to follow orders and general misconduct.”

     “Then what have you been doing in the meantime? How do you keep in touch with your agents? How—?”

     A squeeze of her fingers later, he said, “I’ve been posing as a trader, going from one Starbase to another. My agents always know my whereabouts, and when I left _The Cresas_ , Tregar and I exchanged portable subspace communicators to stay in touch. He’s now the Commander. What I haven’t told you, is before I left, he and all the crewmembers decided to defect to the Federation. The only problem remained the manner in which it could be accomplished. Therefore, since I’m _persona non-grata_ with the Service, I can defect and lead the Federation to the coordinates of my former ship whereon the rest will defect and hand over the ship and all its technology to the Federation.”

     “But you’ve yet to defect yourself.”

     “I’ve been waiting for you, fearing we might be separated once I did and not knowing when we could be together. This way,” he said,” locking his eyes with hers, “we can kill two birds with one stone—”

     “Where do you come up with all these Earth sayings?”

     “All those novels, remember. Anyway, now I’m free of the Romulan Empire, we can enact my plan for what we’ve previously wanted—a future with each other—but can also foil the attempts of the Vulcan High Council and T’Pau to marry you off to whomever they please.”

     “Again, how?”

     “If you’re agreeable, beloved, we’ll marry, tonight.”

     “I-I-I,” she stammered.

     “Vera, you know my feelings for you, and I know yours for me. Have they changed, even the slightest, despite the years?”

     “No, only grown deeper.”

     “As mine have for you. More and more I realize I want to live a life with you beside me. I want you to bear my children, no other.”

     Tears in her eyes, testing the mascara’s guarantee further, Vera replied, “Oh, my love, it’s what I want, too. Yes, I will marry you. Tonight. Is this further reason for this dress?”

     The slight, upward curl of the corner of his lips answered her question. “Tonight, we go to the Magistrate, here, and tomorrow leave for our honeymoon.”

     Dessert arrived, consisting of a warm thick slice of chocolate cake, seven layers deep with the richest, darkest frosting between each and a sauce of caramel poured over the whole. At the first bite, Vera sighed in what seemed orgasmic delight, and brought another half-smile to Tlasus’ mouth.

     “That sigh expresses my own thoughts when gazing at you, that you look good enough to eat. Now, I realize the true meaning.” Lowering his voice, he added, “I could undress you and lick every inch of you.”

     Vera blushed and lowered her head to concentrate on her dessert. “Tlasus,” she whispered, “contain yourself.”

 

     The last course consumed, Tlasus rose and came around to pull out her chair, then placed her hand gallantly in the crook of her arm and escorted her the 100 meters to the magistrate’s office. Waiting for them in the office, stood a tall, elderly man who carried himself with all the dignity of his station. Vera had never attended one of these civil ceremonies, so found herself unprepared for the way it was conducted and the unusual vows they exchanged:

 

     “I bind myself to this man/woman in legal force, endowing him/her with all my worldly goods. I shall give him/her my loyalty, even in disquiet. I shall take his/her part in any public discussion and bind myself to him/her forever more. This I swear under penalty of disgrace by my people for violating my sacred oath.”

     Allowed to hold hands and face each other throughout, Vera saw a smile threatening to curl the corners of Tlasus’ mouth, as she recited the words regarding taking his part in any public

 

discussion. He knew she bore a stubborn mind and possessed strong opinions. Luckily, most of those agreed with his.      The vows spoken. Tlasus slipped a dazzling ruby ring inscribed with an ornate gold setting onto the third finger of her right hand When asked by the magistrate if either had other words they wished to say, Tlasus nodded.

     “Vera, you wrapped my heart in chains from the moment I first laid eyes upon you, preventing any other woman from tempting me. As you know, many years passed from that day until we finally met, much less could be alone, but never, at any time, did my feelings change, neither have they changed in these ensuing years. You have captured my heart and soul with your beauty and your intellect, with your kindness and unwavering resolve, and may it always be so.”

     Vera, blushed a bit and held his hands more firmly, first regarding the smallness of hers within his much larger ones, then looked up and met his eyes.

     “Tlasus, my nature is one of not trusting others, and only a few have earned that trust over a period of months or years. But, with you, in a matter of days, I trusted you without question when you captured my own heart and soul. I have loved you ever since and know I will forever. I am yours until the day death takes forces us apart.”

     Both turned to the magistrate to see what else he would say, and noticed the austere man sniffing back his emotions before saying in a stern voice, “You are now man and wife and let no one put this union asunder.”

     It was then they signed their names on the Magistrate’s tablet and were assured their marriage would be entered in Federation records within minutes. The man did remark upon their unusual Vulcan names, to which Vera explained her adoption by a human aunt, and Tlasus explained his by being born into a family, who did not adhere to family traditions.

 

     Away at last and back in Vera’s hotel, Tlasus surprised Vera and carried her through the opening door, before kicking it closed behind him, amid her giggles of delight. Early the next morning, he awoke his bride.

     “Come, sleepyhead, time to go on our honeymoon.”

     Vera struggled to sit up and rubbed her eyes. “A honeymoon? Really?”

     “Hurry up and pack whatever you have for a warm climate. I’ve already bought some things, so you don’t need much. The jumpship I hired is waiting at Dock Three.”

     “Give me a moment to contact the Base commander and let him know I’ll be off-base for a few weeks, so they’ll know I haven’t disappeared. Then, my love, I’m all yours.”

     “Ah, don’t tempt me,” Tlasus said, pulling her close. “Time grows short and our journey will take a day, until we can at last fulfill these years we’ve been separated.”

 

     The next days and night found them in absolute privacy upon a white, sand swept beach adjacent a sea of turquoise blue, their needs for food and drink provided by a drone which came twice a day and their shelter a roomy round tent made of a synthetic weather and wind proof fabric Vera couldn’t identify. For their comfort a bed lay to one side consisting of a cushioned twelve-inch depth, whose covers provided adequate warmth on the cooler nights. Rising late in the morning, they ate and then made love, and sometime in late afternoon would take walks along the pristine beach, picking up and marveling at the various vacant shells and unusual flotsam washed during the high tide. After the evening meal they again retired to the comfy bed, speaking of various things, including his personal history and that of his parents. It was then Vera learned of the many planets of the Romulan Empire and the variety of races on each one, as well as the hatred which existed among them and constant warring and bigotry, which reminded Vera of what she knew of Earth.

     “A hundred years ago,” he said the sixth night, “the planet Silenas was discovered at the far reaches of our empire. The people were peaceful and extremely intelligent. But what surprised the explorers the most was their appearance.”

     “Their appearance?” asked Vera, running her hand down his bare chest.

     “Hmm,” he said, half in reaction to her touch and in answer, as well. “They lacked the pointed ears and slanted eyebrows of other Romulan. In fact, he said, tracing the rounded outline of her shell-like ear with a fingertip, “they appeared quite Earthlike. Never before had any Romulan seen such well-formed men and women and many of the men took these women as their wives and brought them back to their own home worlds.”

     “Like your father?”

     “And my grandfather.”

     Further talk interrupted by the low hum of Tlasus’ tablet, he sat up and lifted it from the ground beside the bed and scrutinized what appeared on the screen. Vera could hear the voice of his brother Tregar, speaking in English.

     “You are to return at once. Star Service has negated your discharge and reinstated you as Commander of _The Cresas._ Do not delay. You know the consequences if you do.”

     The newlyweds exchanged a look of misgiving, each displaying disappointment and dread.

     “You have to go,” she said, and he nodded in agreement.

     “But why would they drum me out and now want me back. However, if I go forward with my plan to defect, the Service will hunt me down—”

     “And kill you—”

     “Possibly you, too, if we’re together. On one hand, I see the advantage of compliance, although it will mean a separation from each other for up to a year.”

     “How so?”

     “ _The Cresas_ is still in the Frontier, as punishment. If I obey all orders I’m given and regain the trust of the Admiral, we will be sent back to the Federation border after being outfitted with all the latest technology to meet the demands of interaction with Starfleet ships, and then—”      “Then you could cross over and surrender to the first starship you encounter and claim sanctuary.”

     “One of the few other scenarios I’ve considered. Meanwhile, we’ll keep in touch as usual, and I’ll use what influence I have with other commanders to ensure your safety, as well as anyone you love, such as your parents. But I can’t guarantee your protection or theirs against other entities. You do realize that, don’t you?”

     “I do.” She burrowed her head against his chest and held him tight, as his arms wrapped about her protectively. “We’ve endured more time than a year apart, so a scant year should be doable, huh?  


     The next morning, they left the surface of the Pleasure Planet and returned to Starbase 10, and late that same night she watched from the observation deck as Tlasus boarded his trading vessel and turned, throwing her a kiss before the cargo bay doors closed and he was lost from her sight. She continued to watch as the small ship undocked and backed slowly away from its berth and then took off into the blackness of space.

     Vera straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and then left for the Base infirmary, intending to check on Lt. Miller. But, when she arrived, she was informed both he and Ens. Martez had already left on a shuttle for the recently arrived _Exeter_ , an _Exeter_ which had arrived a full two weeks early.

     With no choice in the matter, Vera returned to her hotel room, packed her belongings and reported to Base Command to inform them of her readiness to also join her starship. Once aboard and settled, she composed the following letter to Dr. Leonard McCoy:

 

_Dearest Leonard,_

_I have met with the man I love beyond all others, this time for more than a few brief moments. Be happy for me, dear friend, for we’ve married, and neither the Vulcan High Council nor the Matriarch can command me to take another as my husband. One problem solved, but now others exist._

_He planned to defect to the Federation after we wed, assuming we could be together, since he currently served as the sole captain of a freighter with only a few crewmembers, who also wanted to defect. Alas, all this was not to be. Within less than a week of our marriage, he received a command to report back to his former command. Thus, once more, we are parted for an undeterminable amount of time. It seems the Romulan Service was unsatisfied with his brother’s command, or at least it seems the only reason we can think of. Of course, all those on his former ship also want to defect, but to accomplish this feat, so far, has proven an impossible task. Naturally, all these facts must be suppressed from others and remain our secrets, alone._

_Once more, I am aboard_ The Exter, _and once more I am miserable in my longing for that certain someone’s presence. At least, we have our memories of a wonderful week together, uninterrupted by outside influences, on a planet where we camped on a white sandy beach where brilliant aqua waters washed ashore and we gazed up at the clear star-filled sky at night._

_Pray to your god for my future happiness, dear Leonard._

_As always, I am devoted to you for all your caring concern,_

_Love,_

_Vera_

A month later, in some far-out reach of space, she received a reply:

 

_Dearest Vera,_

_I’m happy for you but sad as well. You’ve suffered so much since first meeting this person, keeping your love and relationship secret, despite the years and distance separating you, so deserve happiness. I will always hope things work out and believe they will. Have faith, sugar. You are in my thoughts whenever I am idle. Yes, I will pray for you. Be brave; be patient. How silly I am. You know this anyway, of course._

_All my love,_

_Uncle Lenny_

Along with Dr. McCoy’s missive, came one from two other persons from _The Enterprise._ Quickly read, one with a smile and the other with a frown, Vera Hopton sat down to record her first personal log entry in several weeks.

 

     “Stardate Seventy-eight-oh-seven, point two-three.

     Jim sends his love and wishes to know the reason I haven’t answered his last letter. I found the little thing in question after receiving it at the same time as this most recent. Really, the postal system in this sector is horrid! Also, in today’s mail, I received a surprise…a note from Spock…hardly using more than a few seconds of bandwidth, quite unusual for someone so ordinarily thrifty as my cousin.

     He inquires as to my health, speaks of having overcome the effects of our time trip and looks forward to our next meeting—as if I would care. This last almost makes me wonder if he was sober when he recorded it. Although, as everyone knows, it is impossible to inebriate a Vulcan…but how many experiments have been carried out on a half Vulcan. He might think himself fully Vulcan, but he is not. As to myself, I’m immune to the effects of intoxicating drinks. Then, again, I am not half Human, as he is.

     As to the rest of my current station, I remain as always: hopeful, busying my time with my assigned duties during regular hours and in off hours consume myself with reading, painting or recording letters to those I love. Nothing from the one I truly love, but I would know, somehow, if he is in trouble. Such is our bond, now, and now I simply wait, but wonder for how long this time.”

 

Continued in “Mission Deceit”

 

 

 

  


 

 

    

    

  


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